FREMONT -- On an afternoon stroll through the Niles district, I stepped around a handful of motorcycles parked outside The Florence Bar, the way horses once were tied to posts outside saloons in the Wild West.

I ventured inside the venerable watering hole and, just as the jukebox blaring Jimi Hendrix gave way to Dean Martin, I remembered that some had cautioned that I wouldn't be welcome there, and a boot print on the back of my T-shirt would be the proof.

That "advice" couldn't have been further from the truth. Once inside, I immediately broke into a goofy grin that I wouldn't shake for hours -- and that was well before downed my first drink. The Florence can have that effect on you.

Maybe it's because the old joint and its grizzled, fiercely loyal customers were more friendly and welcoming than at any place I'd seen in years. Or maybe it was the view from the long bar, where patrons peer out its big windows and see cows grazing on the brown Fremont hills, where 19th-century outlaws like Joaquin Murrieta were rumored to ride through the night, just outside the arm of the law.

These days, there are a lot of "nice" places to hang out. But far too few businesses value soul and authenticity. The Florence, almost unwittingly, overflows with the stuff. It officially has a Niles Boulevard address, but, spiritually, it stands at the fictional corner of Bukowski and Tarantino, oozing a scruffy, unpretentious charm. It has become a neighborhood bar in the truest sense, where old friends gather together so frequently, for so long, it starts to resemble a big living room.

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Visitors to almost any table on a busy night are treated to salty but friendly conversations and barbed one-liners, often followed by loud laughter.

Beyond its colorful veneer, however, there's another reason why I like The Florence so much.

While this city long has tried to transform itself into a rising tech power and upscale suburb, with all of the benefits -- and trappings -- of modern life, The Florence Bar simply never got that memo.

This comfortably weathered tavern, instead, has continued to flip the bird at a world fueled by constant change, thriving by staying exactly the same and carrying on the East Bay's proud tradition of embracing biker culture and its leather-vested band of rebels.

But before you get the wrong idea about The Florence, its most ardent supporters want to let you in on a little secret: They're not so tough.

"People think this is a mean ol' biker bar, and they get scared away by all the bikes out front," said Gracie Brown, a longtime bartender. "But just about everyone here is a pussycat."

Brown, a lifelong Niles resident, possesses skills indispensable for a barkeep -- she's fast with a drink and to flash a smile that lights up her wide, blue eyes. Within minutes of my unannounced visit, she assumed the role of tour guide, showing me a front room filled with eight TVs, a pool table, a handful of tables and chairs and the long bar. A large backroom has walls covered by large, framed photos of movie cowboys, both famous and obscure.

Brown said the patio in the back is the site of many a weekend barbecue, when big crowds frequently pack the bar to watch blues and rock bands perform live.

She credits bar owner Rick Kukulica for continuing the bar's vibrant but relatively safe scene. Like a lot of Niles spots, the Florence values its history. Its backroom has a fiberglass partition on the floor, showing a hole that leads to a Prohibition-era tunnel that, legend has it, runs underneath the boulevard.

I returned on a Tuesday evening, when the place was three-quarters full and buzzing with energy. While the Grateful Dead's "Friend of the Devil" played on the jukebox, a group of customers played billiards, while another played liar's dice on the bar, when they weren't trading old stories about their wilder days.

I grabbed a seat and spotted a framed poster in which the words, "The Florence" and "Niles, CA," are surrounded by a skeleton with long hair riding a motorcycle made of flames. You won't see that at Starbucks.

Hanging on a back wall were street signs bearing the names of local biker clubs: Road Doggs, Skeleton Crew and Freedom Riders, among others.

"They are clubs, not gangs -- let's make that clear," Brown said. "I'm in the Niles Runaways. We're just ladies who like to ride scooters."

They also do charity work. The Niles Runaways and another club, the She Devils, hold toy drives for families in need each holiday season. On Friday, Brown and her club mates have scheduled an event at the bar as part of a school-supply charity drive for local kids.

Susie Johnston said she and her husband, Bob, often make the 10-minute drive from her South Hayward residence because they consider fellow Florence patrons as family.

"This is my home away from home," she said.

Johnston said there was a bad auto accident outside the bar one recent weekend, and it warmed her heart to see the bar empty out into the street where customers checked on the motorists.

"That's the community part of this place," she said. "Everybody looks out for each other here. It's like going back to the 1950s."

Out & About is a monthly column that highlights the wildly underrated entertainment scene in the Tri-City and greater Hayward areas.